


Love is a Collision

by xlightless



Series: gimme your attention [1]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Masturbation, Nude Modeling, Pining, dae is a porn star
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5949298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/pseuds/xlightless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Youngjae needs a model for his art final, but he has no friends who will pose naked for him. But Daehyun isn't a friend. Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is a Collision

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/17016).

"Chin up. A little more. Perfect. Turn your head just a bit to your right. Put your hands on your hips."  
  
Youngjae sits in a strip club, a sketchpad in his lap and a pencil in his hand. She's wearing a bikini that just barely covers her breasts and vagina. The curves of her body are a little too angular. Her bones jut out in places Youngjae isn't sure they should. She has high cheekbones, sharp jawline, eyes that rest between disinterest and sultry seduction. The dim lights cast shadows across her body, erasing whatever flaws mar her pale skin.  
  
Youngjae's pencil flies across the paper, knowing that if he stalls for even a moment, she'll be gone and he'll be left with just a naked bust. He does this because he needs to build his portfolio for his final project. He does this because these models have been kind enough to let him sketch them during their rehearsals. He does this because he doesn't want to hire models, and he's a bartender at the club anyway.  
  
He figures he might as well take advantage of this opportunity.  
  
Models and strippers have a lot more in common than most people might think. They pose under false contexts. They sell their bodies to the public eye. They have to look appealing, constantly oversexualized and seductive. The personification of Lust itself.  
  
Youngjae doesn't know why strippers are condemned when customers continue to come back in suits and ties and leather dress shoes. When customers tell their wives _Sorry, I have to work overtime._  
  
_The paperwork is really piling up this week._  
  
_You know my boss is a real dictator._  
  
She breaks her posture just as Youngjae finishes smudging the pencil marks to add depth. She crouches down to look at Youngjae, but she's still a bit too high up on the stage.  
  
"Can I see?" she asks, her voice soft against the pounding bass. Her knees are pulled together, pressing against her breasts. Her black hair cascades down her shoulders like a waterfall.  
  
Youngjae flips the sketchpad around, and she smiles. She stands up again and struts further down the stage. Youngjae flips to a new page as a new model comes up. She's more soft curves and less hard angles. She has a shock of bright red hair that matches her bikini.  
  
"Cross your arms. Good. Now look right at me."  
  
//  
  
Youngjae knows his way of completing his portfolio is unconventional, but the art department is being incredibly frugal and won't hire models.  
  
It also doesn't help that Youngjae has exactly zero friends who are willing to pose naked for him.  
  
"You should have gone into engineering," Junhong says, flipping through Youngjae's sketchpad.  
  
"Says the guy who majors in modern dance," Youngjae retaliates. He takes his sketchpad from Junhong.  
  
Junhong leans back on Youngjae's bed. "No, hey, the dance scholarship is paying for my education, but I'm also majoring in psychology. But _you_. You're really good at math."  
  
"Just because I'm good at math doesn't mean I'm bad at art," Youngjae says. "Where did that stereotype even come from?"  
  
Junhong shrugs, snags Youngjae's sketchpad again, and flips through it. "You make a good point. These sketches are actually good, considering you have, what, a minute to do them?"  
  
"A minute and a half. Maybe more if the woman is new, but that's pretty rare," Youngjae replies. He gives up wasting the energy to get the sketchpad back. "But that's unnecessary."  
  
"But the thing is," Junhong pauses and he flips to another page, turning it around to show Youngjae, "these are all women. Don't you need to diversify your portfolio a little bit?"  
  
Youngjae opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again, thinking. "I probably should."  
  
Junhong nods. "That's what you get for only going to strip clubs. You get nearly naked women and no men. Imagine your parents' reactions when they find out you're using your college education to sketch strippers."  
  
"At least I'm not doing drugs," Youngjae says.  
  
Junhong reaches over to place the sketchpad back on Youngjae's desk. "You can always go to a gay strip club."  
  
Youngjae raises an eyebrow. "Do those even exist?"  
  
When Junhong shrugs, Youngjae begins to doubt Junhong's credibility. "I personally don't know any, but I'm sure there's at least a couple in the city. We can go ask Himchan."  
  
When Junhong mentions Himchan, Youngjae begins to doubt Junhong's intentions.  
  
//  
  
Himchan has a reputation on campus. Rumors fly around every now and then. He's an absolute cockslut. He's a freak in bed. He's bisexual. He's gay. He gives great head. He goes commando daily in case he gets laid in between lectures.  
  
Everything about him is shrouded in sex and scandal.  
  
"Oh yeah! Fuck! Right there! Harder!"  
  
And Youngjae thinks maybe some of those rumors are right.  
  
Youngjae sighs as Junhong stops right outside Himchan's frat house. Nobody should be in there right now—it's twelve in the morning on a Friday night, meaning everybody else is at a party—and Himchan is screwing somebody.  
  
Youngjae looks up at the only window with a light on. "Should we just wait, or—"  
  
A scream pierces the air, interrupting Youngjae, and there are no more sounds.  
  
"Nah, they're done," Junhong says. He pushes through the door, pulling Youngjae with him. They wait in the living room. Junhong sits on the leather couch, limbs sprawling out. Youngjae sits beside him.  
  
"Okay, you can leave now," a voice says upstairs.  
  
Another voice splutters. It's almost impossibly deep. "Wait, but, wh—"  
  
"Shhh, you'll ruin the moment." There's a definitive pause. "Now leave."  
  
There’s the faint rustling of clothes. The clink of a belt buckle. Quick footsteps. A young man makes his way down the stairs. He holds a jacket under one arm. His shirt rides up his torso. A patch of dark ink peeks from under his shirt sleeve. He catches Youngjae and Junhong sitting on the couch and turns a deep red. He pulls his shirt down. He hurries out the front door.  
  
"Himchan! I got a question for you!" Junhong yells out once the door is closed.  
  
Footsteps come down the stairs, considerably slower than the last. Himchan strolls into the living room, a pair of sweatpants just barely hanging off his hips. He doesn't have a shirt on. He exudes an aura similar to the women in the strip club. Youngjae feels an intense need to draw Himchan. Maybe he can ask later.  
  
"It better be good," Himchan replies. He runs a hand through his damp hair. He walks past Youngjae to sit next to Junhong. He smells like vanilla and sweat.  
  
"Do you know any good gay strip clubs?" Junhong asks.  
  
Himchan smirks. "You know I need payment, right?"  
  
When Himchan places a hand on Junhong's thigh, Youngjae begins to feel really out of place. Junhong smiles.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Junhong replies.  
  
Himchan pats Junhong's thigh and stands up. "Good, because I really need help with that philosophy paper."  
  
Confused, Youngjae stares at Himchan's back as he walks into the kitchen. Junhong stands up, signaling for Youngjae to follow. They walk into the kitchen and find Himchan pulling a bowl of food out of the fridge.  
  
Junhong leans his elbows against the kitchen counter. "What part?"  
  
Himchan places the bowl in the microwave, setting the time to three minutes. "I just need somebody to work with on research. As soon as I organize everything, I'll be able to write the essay." Then, his eyes widen and he makes his way over to Youngjae. He holds out a hand. Youngjae takes it tentatively. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Kim Himchan, the resident aphrodisiac."  
  
Youngjae blinks. He doesn't want to be too rude, but he's still lost at Himchan's sudden change. "Yoo Youngjae, um, student."  
  
Himchan flashes Youngjae a brilliantly white smile. "Nice to meet you, Youngjae." He turns to Junhong. "You wanted to know...what again?"  
  
"Gay strip clubs," Junhong says. "You know any?"  
  
Himchan makes a sound of acknowledgement. He sits in one of the chairs by the counter. "Those are hard to come by."  
  
Junhong shrugs. "It was worth a try."  
  
Himchan gives Junhong an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."  
  
"I'll still help you out with your paper, though," Junhong says.  
  
Himchan walks around the counter to pull Junhong into a hug. He reaches up to pat Junhong's head. "You precious soul. You're too pure for this shithole."  
  
Junhong shrugs, but he smiles. "I try."  
  
Himchan lets go of Junhong, stares at him, then Youngjae. Youngjae has to look somewhere else because he can't look Himchan in the eyes.  
  
"Why are you looking for one anyway?" Himchan asks.  
  
"No particular reason," Junhong says.  
  
As Himchan opens his mouth to say something, Youngjae says, "It's for my portfolio."  
  
There's a curious glint in Himchan's eyes as he focuses on Youngjae. "Enlighten me."  
  
"I sketch the girls at the club I work at," Youngjae begins. "I major in art, and this portfolio is the project for my final."  
  
"How do gay strip clubs fit into this?" Himchan asks, raising a plucked eyebrow.  
  
"I only have women in my portfolio so far," Youngjae replies. His cheeks burn because in his mind, everything was logical and completely reasonable. As soon it all comes out of his mouth, though, he realizes how stupid he might sound. Still, he pushes on. "It was suggested that I diversify—" Youngjae shoots Junhong a look. "—it. Like... Add more guys."  
  
Himchan rests his chin in an open palm. "That's actually really fascinating." He turns to Junhong. "You have a fascinating friend."  
  
Junhong shrugs with a smile on his face. "Yeah, I know."  
  
Himchan pulls a scrap piece of paper and a pen from one of the kitchen drawers. He writes down something before handing it to Youngjae. He looks at it and finds a name and a number. "He's a friend of mine. He won't mind posing naked for you for a couple hours."  
  
Youngjae swears his face turns a deeper shade of red, but he pockets the paper. "Um, thanks."  
  
Himchan smiles, a smug one that seems all-knowing. "It's not a problem."  
  
Afterwards, Youngjae and Junhong walk out of the frat house. The cold bites at their noses. Youngjae shoves his hands into his pockets.  
  
"How do you know Himchan?" Youngjae asks as they make their way back to his car.  
  
"We have the same philosophy class," Junhong replies. "That's why he needs help with that essay."  
  
Youngjae nods. "He minors in philosophy?"  
  
Junhong nods. "Majors in traditional music. He's good with one of those drums, I forgot the name. People focus on the sex rumors a lot, but he's pretty cool."  
  
Youngjae realizes that he was one of those people before he actually met Himchan.  
  
//  
  
"I'd just like to remind everybody that your portfolios are due next month."  
  
The professor drones on at the podium. Youngjae sighs, his knuckles pressing into his cheek, holding his head up. He thought an art professor would have more enthusiasm than a dead body.  
  
"There should be a cohesive theme and title related to aspects of human realism," the professor continues. "Also, don't forget the final part. One of your sketches will be transferred onto canvas and the five best paintings will be included in the Annual Winter Art Exhibit."  
  
Youngjae lets his eyes slip shut. What does he need to do today?  
  
"Alright, that's it, you're dismissed," the professor says. Probably realized nobody else is paying attention anymore.  
  
Youngjae regrets taking an 8 am class. It's horrible. He wakes up at 7:45, rushes to become presentable, and basically runs to class, coffee and an energy bar in hand with a backpack banging his spinal cord uncomfortably.  
  
Youngjae drifts out of the building into the quad. If he goes back to his dorm, he's bound to fall asleep and get nothing done. He can go study in the library. Doesn't he have a paper to complete?  
  
"Fuck, I do," Youngjae groans as he makes his way to the library.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Youngjae sits down at an empty table with a small pile of books in his arms. He sets it down with a sigh and removes his laptop from his backpack.  
  
"Excuse me, can I sit here?"  
  
Youngjae looks up. It's a young man, dressed in a hoodie, a coat, and jeans. He wears thick framed glasses. He holds a beanie in his hand and his mess of brown hair sticks out in haphazard directions. His backpack hangs off one shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Youngjae replies, looking down at his laptop again.  
  
"Thanks," the man says, sitting in the chair across from Youngjae.  
  
The silence between them isn't as awkward as Youngjae originally thought. A folder is laid out before the man, papers strewn out in front of him. His thumbnail rests between his teeth. It's almost comfortable, the way they work, isolated yet in tandem. Youngjae manages to come up with a thesis. He looks up at the time in the corner of his laptop screen. It's almost 10 am.  
  
"Gotta get to my next class," Youngjae says, but he doesn't know why he said that out loud. He packs his things and gathers the pile of books into his arms.  
  
The man looks up, blinking tired eyes. He smiles a little. "Have fun with that."  
  
Youngjae nods his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Thanks."  
  
As Youngjae leaves the library, he digs into his pocket for his phone, but he also finds the paper Himchan gave him last Friday.  
  
“Oh, that's right,” Youngjae mutters. He reads the name ( _Jung Daehyun_ ) and purses his lips. Should he really ask a complete stranger to get naked for him? But Himchan said the guy wouldn't mind. How is he even supposed to tell that to someone?  
  
Youngjae, out of pure impulse, decides to text the guy.  
  
_Hi, my name is Youngjae. I know you don't know me, but Himchan recommended you to me. I just need a small favor for my art class._  
  
Youngjae immediately shoves his phone into his pocket and begins walking down the steps. He doesn’t even get ten feet away from the building before his phone vibrates in his pocket. He feels his gut lurch. He pulls it out his pocket. It's a text from Daehyun.  
  
_Hey. Yeah, sure, what is it?_  
  
Youngjae stares at the text. How is he supposed to politely ask a stranger to pose naked for him?  
  
_Can I meet you somewhere so we can talk about it in detail? I'd rather explain it face to face._  
  
Youngjae sends the text, his hands shaking. He really shouldn't have listened to Junhong. He should have just stuck with women. At least the women in the bar were used to prancing around with nearly nothing on.  
  
His phone vibrates again.  
  
_That's fine. When and where?_  
  
Youngjae gulps as he taps out a response. He’s mostly free tomorrow morning.  
  
_How about Matoki Coffee House tomorrow at 10?_  
  
Daehyun replies almost immediately.  
  
_Awesome! I'll see you then._  
  
The nerves in Youngjae’s hands calm down somewhat, but not a lot. He takes a deep breath, but that doesn't make the boulder in his stomach lessen. He hasn't gotten anything done. He's just pushed back the inevitable.  
  
//  
  
The next day, Youngjae returns to the library to work on his paper.  
  
Youngjae stops at a table with only one other person (he can't believe all the other tables are already occupied).  
  
"Hey, is it alright if I sit here?" Youngjae asks, his hand resting on the chair.  
  
The person looks up. Youngjae recognizes him from yesterday. He has to do a double take. What were the chances of seeing the same guy? There are over 10,000 students attending this university, and he runs into this guy again. He smiles as he recognizes Youngjae. Youngjae does the same.  
  
"Go ahead," he replies. He looks down at his mass of papers again, poring and rearranging.  
  
Youngjae wants to ask the man what he's up to, but he's not sure if they're acquainted enough for small talk. Plus, he looks really busy. Youngjae takes his laptop out of his backpack, drums his fingers on the table as he waits for it to start up.  
  
"Can you watch my stuff real quick?" Youngjae asks. The man looks up from his papers. "I just need to get some books."  
  
"Yeah, of course," the man replies with a smile.  
  
Youngjae nods his thanks and walks away from the table.  
  
//  
  
Youngjae thinks it's perfectly reasonable to get the guy some coffee as thanks for watching his stuff. Right? Is that the normal thing to do? Maybe he should have gotten tea?  
  
Youngjae sighs. He walks back to his table, an armful of books under one arm and a cup holder with two drinks in another hand.  
  
"Thanks again," Youngjae says as he places the cup holder on the table, followed by the books. He takes one of the cups out. "This is for you, by the way."  
  
The man blinks. Once. Twice, until his eyes finally focus. He hones in on the cup of coffee and takes it into his hands. He takes a deep breath, his eyes slipping shut. "Oh my god, thank you for this."  
  
Youngjae's lips twitch as a smile works its way out. "Yeah, no problem."  
  
The guy takes a sip, smiling and humming in approval, then focuses on something else. "'1,001 Movies to Watch Before You Die'. Interesting book you got there."  
  
Youngjae glances at the book. "Oh. Yeah, I thought it'd be good for this paper I'm doing for film criticism." He picks up the paper listing the details of the assignment. "'Explain why the representation of minorities is important in modern visual media’."  
  
The guy’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. "Is that your major?"  
  
"It’s just an elective," Youngjae explains. "I major in studio art."  
  
The guy nods, seemingly understanding. He takes another sip of coffee.  
  
"What about you?" Youngjae asks. It's partly to keep the conversation going, partly because he's kinda socially obligated to ask now, and partly because he's curious about the guy’s massive amount of papers.  
  
The guy looks at Youngjae, slightly confused, but then realizes. "Oh, um, political science."  
  
"Is that what the papers are for?" Youngjae asks, signaling to the pile.  
  
The guy shakes his head. "This is for a mock trial case. I'm planning to become a criminal lawyer."  
  
"That's...a lot more interesting than film criticism," Youngjae comments. He doesn't even bother to hide the surprise and awe in his voice.  
  
“Yeah. But it's stressful.” The guy scratches the back of his head. “Hey, thanks again for the coffee. I didn't know how much I needed this until now.”  
  
Youngjae smiles, then returns to working on his paper.  
  
They settle into a comfortable silence again. Youngjae types. The guy sips his coffee. Youngjae flips through his book. The guy returns to going over his papers. Youngjae doesn't even notice the time passing by until the guy begins to pack up. Youngjae glances at the clock in the corner of the screen.  
  
_9:46 AM._  
  
Youngjae purses his lips. If he doesn't leave now, he's going to be late. He closes his laptop and stuffs it into his backpack.  
  
“You got somewhere to be, too?” the guy asks.  
  
Youngjae nods. “Yeah. I’m meeting somebody.”  
  
The guy smiles. “Cool. Have fun. I'll probably see you tomorrow, then?”  
  
Youngjae zips up his backpack. “I think so, yeah.”  
  
The guy heads out first, waving at Youngjae just before he turns a corner towards the exit. Youngjae takes a deep breath and stretches out his arms.  
  
//  
  
Matoki Coffee House is a solid fourteen minute walk from campus. It only takes Youngjae ten minutes on a bicycle.  
  
After he locks up his bike to a rack outside, he heads in. The warmth is welcoming, enveloping Youngjae in a comforting embrace as soon as he opens the door. He pulls out his phone and texts Daehyun.  
  
_Hey, I'm at the café now. Do you want me to order anything for you?_  
  
“Welcome to Matoki Coffee House. What can I do for you?” the woman at the cash register asks.  
  
Youngjae smiles at her. He waits for Daehyun to reply before he walks up to the counter.  
  
_I’ll have a black coffee. Thanks._  
  
Youngjae orders and after he pays, sits by the window, looking out at the street. He glances at his phone screen, checking the time ( _10:04 AM_ ). He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, bounces his leg.  
  
He’ll admit he's a little nervous about talking to this guy. Especially when the topic is about him getting naked for Youngjae.  
  
The bells on the door jingle. Youngjae looks up.  
  
It's the guy from the library.  
  
Youngjae immediately files the incident as coincidental. He looks back to the window when his phone vibrates.  
  
_I'm at the café now. Where are you?_  
  
Youngjae’s eyes widen. There's no way. He looks at the guy— _Daehyun_ , he realizes—standing by the entrance, looking down at his phone. He stares at the messy mop of brown hair, the baggy hoodie, the black jeans, the green coat in his arms.  
  
Youngjae can't possibly ask this guy to get naked. He looks too innocent. Too much like Junhong. Too wide-eyed and hopeful.  
  
“Daehyun?” Youngjae calls out tentatively.  
  
Daehyun’s head shoots up and he looks around. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he scans the café. He stops at Youngjae, his eyebrows raising, and then smiles. He walks to Youngjae's table and sits down.  
  
“You're Youngjae? The guy who got me coffee. Twice,” Daehyun says.  
  
Youngjae laughs nervously. Why is he even nervous? At least Daehyun isn't a complete stranger anymore. They've talked before—like, twice. “Y-yeah…”  
  
“So,” Daehyun starts, leaning back in his chair, “what is this favor you need done?”  
  
Youngjae gulps. He can feel his face starting to turn redder. “I, um, need you to model for me.”  
  
Daehyun’s face lights up. He even sits up a little straighter. “That's aweso—“  
  
“Naked,” Youngjae blurts.  
  
Daehyun stops, freezing almost completely like someone took a remote control and pressed the pause button on him.  
  
_I fucked it up_ , Youngjae thinks, beginning to panic.  
  
The woman from the front brings a tray with two mugs of steaming coffee and sets them down on the table.  
  
Youngjae splutters out a weak “T-thanks” before she walks away.  
  
Daehyun doesn't look away from Youngjae.  
  
Youngjae bites his bottom lip. “Okay… I know that, um, sounded a little…a _lot_ weirder than it should have, but I swear it's for my portfolio.” Before he knows it, the words are spilling out of his mouth as he tries to come up with an excuse. “We're doing a unit on human realism and—“

“Youngjae,” Daehyun interrupts, slow and cautious, like he's talking to a scared animal.  
  
Youngjae closes his mouth and waits. He holds his breath because he dreads Daehyun’s response.  
  
“I'll do it.”  
  
Youngjae blinks. He honestly was not expecting that. “W-wait, you will?”  
  
Daehyun smiles. It throws Youngjae off to see it. He's almost blinded by how bright and reassuring it is. “Sure. Himchan told you about me because I'm a part-time model.”  
  
Youngjae understands now. He almost laughs. “A future criminal lawyer and a part-time model. Huh. What else are you?”  
  
Daehyun removes his glasses and stares at Youngjae with half-lidded eyes. “I'm also Superman, but let's keep that between us.”  
  
Youngjae might have laughed if Daehyun wasn't so attractive without the glasses. How can he draw Daehyun naked if he's this fucked without the glasses? Youngjae was wrong about Daehyun looking innocent. He can’t do this with Daehyun giving him scandalous bedroom eyes.  
  
Daehyun clears his throat as he puts his glasses back on. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, no, that was very impressive.” Youngjae takes a sip of his coffee (anything to distract himself), and realizes that maybe he should have just bought a water bottle. “Ten out of ten, would retell that joke to my roommate.”  
  
Daehyun raises an eyebrow, a half-smile on his face.  
  
There's only one thought on Youngjae’s mind now. He knows how hot he is.  
  
Of course he does. Why else would he be a model?  
  
“So, um, I don't know how I'm going to pay you for your, um, service…since I'm a broke college student and all…,” Youngjae says.  
  
"What math are you taking right now?” Daehyun suddenly asks.  
  
Youngjae tilts his head, confused about the connection between his math class and his payment. “Statistics. Why?”  
  
“Good. Me too,” Daehyun says with another one of his blinding smiles. When Youngjae doesn't respond, Daehyun adds, “I need help with that class.”  
  
And then it finally occurs to Youngjae. That's how he's going to repay Daehyun.  
  
With study sessions.  
  
Bless the college student ingenuity.  
  
“Can I be honest with you right now?” Daehyun asks. “And I don't want to offend you, and you don't seem like that type of person, but I just want to make sure.”  
  
Youngjae waits for Daehyun to continue.  
  
“You're not some weird perverted kid, right? You won't, like, try to rape me?” Daehyun asks. “Be honest.”  
  
Youngjae feigns a horrified expression. “I would never. I always ask for permission before I perform sexual intercourse.”

“’Sexual intercourse’,” Daehyun imitates with a laugh. “What are you, a middle aged virgin?”  
  
Youngjae laughs. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he thought. He wonders if it's because his nerves a lot calmer now, or if it’s because Daehyun is such an easy person to talk to.  
  
//  
  
Youngjae has made a grave mistake.  
  
He has a very naked, very handsome young man standing in front of him in the campus art studio where anybody could just walk in.  
  
Youngjae has seen a dick before. He has to remind himself that he, too, has a dick. But Daehyun is so hung it almost hurts. If Youngjae were to be honest right now, he’d wonder why he was born gay because he is just trying so hard not to think inappropriate thoughts about Daehyun and dicks, but he’s also thanking whatever cosmic or scientific entity that let him be attracted to dicks. Especially Daehyun’s dick. Right now.  
  
Being fucked right here and now is slowly making its way up Youngjae’s list of things to get done today.  
  
Youngjae grips his sketchbook so hard, he’s pretty sure his knuckles turn white. He chews on the end of his pencil hard enough to know he’s bound to leave at least a couple teeth marks.  
  
“So,” Daehyun starts, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
_Fuck me_ , Youngjae thinks, but he quickly shoves that thought away. He takes a deep breath as he tries to fortify his verbal filter. Daehyun is still speaking. He moves his arms in the air, not quite flailing, but not quite as graceful as he probably thinks he looks.

“Should I imitate a Greek sculpture?” His arms drop to his sides, but he turns his head to the left as he pretends to look off into the distance.  
  
Youngjae sighs as he presses his pencil to paper. “That’s fine.”  
  
Daehyun glances at Youngjae with a hint of a smile on his face. He definitely knows how hot he is.  
  
Youngjae has so much more time to draw Daehyun, but he’s finished by the time five minutes pass. He’s gotten so used to sketching under a limited amount of time that he doesn’t even need to second-guess himself anymore.  
  
But Youngjae traces the same lines over and over until they’re darker than his eye bags. It’s just… Youngjae doesn’t want to stop looking at Daehyun. His chest rises and falls so infinitesimally that it’s almost unnoticeable. He’s all lean muscle without an ounce of unnecessary fat on his body. Strands of his hair fall on his forehead, shining almost brown under the lights.  
  
Daehyun is just as beautiful as the women.  
  
Youngjae glances at Daehyun above the edge of the sketchbook five minutes later. “I’m, um, finished.”  
  
Daehyun smiles and picks up the towel he left on the table beside him. He wraps it around his waist and somehow that’s hotter than him simply standing without it. Youngjae flips the sketchbook to face Daehyun.  
  
"Whoa,” Daehyun breaths. His eyes go wide. “You really made me look like a Greek sculpture. You’re pretty fucking awesome at this.”  
  
“Thanks.” Youngjae smiles at his lap because he can’t look at Daehyun anymore. It’s too much and they’re too close to each other.  
  
“Alright, so now what?” Daehyun asks, crossing his arms on his chest.  
  
“Well, we can either continue sketching or I can help you with stats,” Youngjae replies. “There really aren’t that many choices.”  
  
Daehyun shrugs. “This is for your portfolio, right? Why don’t you do a couple more sketches? Besides, I don’t mind being naked in front of you.”  
  
Youngjae looks up so fast he probably should have gotten whiplash, but Daehyun is already tugging the towel off his body, his laugh echoing around in the spacious room.  
  
As Youngjae flips to a new page, he finds out that Daehyun has a really cute ass.  
  
//  
  
It’s late at night when Youngjae and Daehyun lean back in their seats, the corners of their eyes stinging and their minds spinning with simple random samples and probabilities and regression lines.  
  
“I think my brain is officially fried,” Daehyun says. He drops his glasses on the table with a clatter and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms.  
  
Youngjae checks the time on his phone. “It's almost midnight. We should head back.”  
  
Daehyun hums in agreement. His hands fall into his lap, but his head is still hanging between his shoulders and his eyes are still closed.  
  
“You did good, though,” Youngjae says as he begins to stack papers and close textbooks. “I’d say you understand a lot of the concepts better now.”  
  
"Thanks for all the help," Daehyun says.  
  
Youngjae smiles. “It's not a problem. You're the one who posed for my portfolio.”  
  
A hint of a smirk flashes across Daehyun’s mouth. He lifts his head and he looks at Youngjae (who, frankly, thinks Daehyun should put his glasses back on this very instant). “We should do this again sometime. You know, I pose for you and you help me with stats. We help each other with our finals.”  
  
Youngjae tilts his head. Does Daehyun like prancing around naked in front of other men? Is he gay? Youngjae blinks, his mind working too fast and asking too many questions for him to handle right now.  
  
Daehyun smiles as he begins helping Youngjae. “It's like a symbiotic relationship we got going on here.”  
  
Youngjae zips up his backpack. Maybe Daehyun really has no ulterior motive? Maybe all he needs is somebody to study with like how Youngjae needs someone for his portfolio.  
  
Yeah. That's it.  
  
"Hey, it’s raining outside,” Daehyun suddenly says.  
  
Youngjae follows Daehyun’s gaze. The windows are pelted with rain, tapping the glass like minuscule knocks. Youngjae purses his lips. He doesn’t have an umbrella with him, and his dorm is across campus.  
  
“Do you need a ride?” Daehyun asks.  
  
Youngjae bites his lower lip, contemplating. Should he really do that? He barely knows this guy. Sure, they spent, like, six hours together today, and maybe Daehyun bought dinner for Youngjae, but that doesn’t mean Youngjae should get into his car, right? If not that, he really doesn’t want to inconvenience Daehyun like this.  
  
“You’re thinking too hard about this. Just let me drive you back. I promise I won’t do anything to you,” Daehyun says with a smile. Too blinding, and Youngjae, with his tired brain, can’t bring himself to look away from it. “Besides, I let you see my dick. And, let’s be honest here, I should have been the one afraid of you.”  
  
“Okay, fine.”  
  
Daehyun’s smile widens, his eyes slipping into crescents, and Youngjae slings his backpack across his shoulders. He stands up, stretching his stiff limbs, and waits for Daehyun to finish packing up.  
  
It turns out Daehyun has a beat up gray Toyota Camry that has seen better days. There isn’t a passenger side window; it’s been replaced by a clear sheet of plastic that’s held up by multiple strips of duct tape. There are tiny white scratches all around its body. Daehyun has to lean over to unlock Youngjae’s door because the automatic locks have stopped working. The scent of Red Bull seems to permeate from either the floor or the seats, Youngjae can’t tell.  
  
At least, that’s what Youngjae gathers when he gets in the car, shivering and soaking wet from the rain.  
  
“Sorry, the heater doesn’t work,” Daehyun says. He reaches in the back for a blanket and dumps it in Youngjae’s lap before he starts to back out of the parking space. “You can use that.”  
  
“Thanks,” Youngjae says, and realizes upon a single sniff that the scent of Red Bull is coming from the blanket.  
  
Daehyun hums, turning on the wipers. “No problem. Where’s your dorm?”  
  
“East Wing. Lee Hall,” Youngjae replies. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he also doesn’t want to wrap himself in a blanket that reeks of energy drink. He shoves his hands underneath the blanket and in between his thighs, trying to keep his fingers warm.  
  
Daehyun is silent, but he keeps the radio on. A bubbly girl group pop song plays.  
  
By the time the song ends, Daehyun pulls up to the hall. It’s still raining, but Youngjae braces himself, knowing he’ll be able to change into warmer clothes as soon as he gets to his room. Besides, the entrance is only a couple large steps away.  
  
“Hey, thanks for giving me a ride,” Youngjae says, his hand resting on the handle.  
  
“My pleasure,” Daehyun replies with another smile.  
  
Youngjae briefly wonders what it’d be like to kiss Daehyun’s smile.  
  
The moment passes without incident, but the thought lingers in Youngjae’s mind. Youngjae exits the car with a curt “Goodbye” and rushes to the entrance. Before he heads inside, he waves to Daehyun. His car rolls away seconds later.  
  
When Youngjae gets to his room, he finds Junhong still awake, watching TV from his bed.  
  
“You missed the latest episode of Downton Abbey,” Junhong simply says. “I hope whatever you were doing was worth it because I know you don’t work at the bar on Tuesday nights.”  
  
“I was helping Daehyun with stats,” Youngjae replies as he dumps his backpack in a corner. He strips down to his underwear as Junhong clambers off the top bunk.  
  
“Isn’t that the guy who’s supposed to be your model? What happened to drawing him?” Junhong asks.  
  
“I did that, too, but I’m helping him because I have no other way to pay him.”  
  
Junhong digs into Youngjae’s backpack for his sketchbook. “Smart. Do you mind if I look?”  
  
“You already are.” Youngjae pulls on a pair of sweats and a shirt. “But, go ahead.”  
  
Junhong sits at Youngjae’s desk and opens the sketchbook, stopping at Daehyun. “That Daehyun guy looks really familiar.”  
  
Youngjae dries his hair and sits on his bed. “He does attend the same college as us.”  
  
Junhong shakes his head. “No, I know, but… It’s weird. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”  
  
Youngjae shrugs. He’s been helping Daehyun study, and he doesn’t feel like thinking as hard as Junhong wants him to right now. “Maybe you saw him at a party.”  
  
“No, I’m pretty sure I saw him naked somewhere before,” Junhong replies. “I’ve seen that dick before.”  
  
Youngjae doesn’t even have the energy to protest. “Wow, so you saw him a porno, whoop-de-doo.”  
  
Junhong is silent. He’s still flipping through the pages, the sound the only thing filling the silence. Youngjae stares at him, confused.  
  
“I _did_ see him in a porno,” Junhong whispers.  
  
Youngjae nearly chokes on his own saliva. “I was joking!”  
  
Junhong turns to face Youngjae, his wide eyes probably mirroring Youngjae’s. “I’m not shitting you right now. I think I saw this guy in a porno.”  
  
But it makes sense. Daehyun being a “model”. Daehyun accepting the thought of being naked in front of a near stranger.  
  
That doesn't make it any more believable.

“You probably just saw someone who looks like him,” Youngjae tries to reason.  
  
Junhong closes Youngjae’s sketchbook and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I'm going to prove it to you.”  
  
Youngjae feels his stomach twist inside him. He never thought that he'd come across a situation like this. Not that he's against porn, he watches a video or two once in a while. It's just…surprising. How does Himchan even know a porn star?  
  
"Here, watch this one,” Junhong says as he hands his phone to Youngjae.  
  
It's a video titled “Korean Twink Gets Dominated in Bed”. Youngjae has to fight the urge to look surprised, but he's pretty sure he does a horrible job.  
  
The video opens up in a sunlit bedroom with two men already fucking in bed. The smaller guy (Youngjae recognizes him almost immediately as Daehyun) is on his elbows and knees, back arched, as the other man thrusts into him. Daehyun moans as he's pushed further into the bed, his voice muffled by the disheveled sheets. He pushes back against the other man as his hands twist in the sheets. The other man leans down, pressing himself against Daehyun’s back, wrapping his arms around Daehyun’s torso, rocking into Daehyun with short, deep thrusts.  
  
There’s no doubt in Youngjae’s mind anymore. He can feel his blood rush downwards; he can feel his pants get a little tighter.  
  
"Fuck me harder,” Daehyun whispers.  
  
And that's all Youngjae can handle. He shoves the phone back into Junhong’s hands. His face burns all the way up to the tips of his ears.  
  
“You barely got a minute in,” Junhong protests. The way he talks so calmly as Daehyun moans without restraint amazes Youngjae. “See, look, Daehyun is being strapped to bed with two really colorful ties. And now they're kissing. Now he’s being fucked again.”  
  
Daehyun lets out a long, drawn out moan.  
  
Youngjae doesn’t think he can ever erase this moment from his memory no matter how hard he tries.  
  
//  
  
Daehyun will never be the same in Youngjae’s eyes.  
  
Youngjae has to remind himself that gay porn is _okay_.  
  
“Of course it's okay. _I'm_ gay. There's _nothing_ wrong with that,” Youngjae mutters to himself as he walks to the library after class. He holds two cups of coffee in his hands, one for himself and one for Daehyun. Because Daehyun was nice enough to give Youngjae a ride in the rain last night.  
  
Youngjae walks into the library and sees Daehyun already at their table, papers strewn all around and a pencil hanging in between his fingers.  
  
Youngjae thinks back to the video and feels his stomach churn. He doesn't know if it's in arousal or anxiety, but something is happening and he can't make his goddamn feet move a single inch.  
  
“If you're going to gawk, don't stand in the middle of the entrance,” someone says as they shove past Youngjae.  
  
Youngjae blinks out of his trance. Daehyun is still in his sights. He takes a deep breath and heads to the table.  
  
“Hey,” Youngjae says, pulling out a chair. He's surprised at how composed he sounds. “What’s up?”  
  
“Not much. Still reviewing details for the case,” Daehyun replies. He doesn't look up, but he moves some papers around to make room for Youngjae. “What about you?”  
  
“Not much happening either.” Youngjae places one of the cups down beside Daehyun. “I got you coffee.”  
  
Daehyun looks up at Youngjae (and Youngjae tries not to think about Daehyun being shoved into white sheets) and grins. “You're the best.”  
  
Youngjae sits down and pulls his laptop out of his backpack. He still needs to finish his essay for film criticism, but now he has to write a report for his anthropology class.  
  
But Daehyun is so distracting. Youngjae peeks above the top of his laptop’s screen. He can't stop thinking about how hot Daehyun looks when he's concentrating. His eyebrows pull together, he places his chin in his palm, he mutters to himself.  
  
Youngjae wonders if Daehyun has that same look on his face when he's fucking someone.  
  
Youngjae wouldn't mind being fucked by Daehyun if he looks like that.

Hell, Youngjae wouldn't mind being the one to fuck Daehyun, either.  
  
Before Youngjae even realizes, he’s hard and he hasn't gotten a single word down for his essay.  
  
Daehyun glances up, locking eyes with Youngjae, and Youngjae nearly yelps. He looks down at his keyboard, feeling like he’s in middle school again. What is he supposed to do about his dick? He can't just leave now. He just got here.  
  
Youngjae swears he hears Daehyun snickering. He sneaks a glance up.  
  
“Are you okay?” Daehyun asks, pushing up his glasses.  
  
Youngjae laughs once, a bit like a wheeze. He probably has a manic look in his eyes, too. “Y-yeah. Why… Why wouldn't I? I am fine and dandy.”  
  
Daehyun’s eyebrows raise. “’Dandy’?”  
  
Youngjae’s eyes dart everywhere, looking for a place to rest besides on Daehyun’s curious gaze. “Yeah, it's a… Um, a new trend. Everybody’s doing it. Why aren't _you_ saying dandy yet?”  
  
“Fair enough,” Daehyun says with an amused smirk.  
  
Youngjae shifts in his seat and he almost moans. It's too much. He can't do this. “Can you watch my stuff?”  
  
Before Daehyun can even reply, Youngjae stands up and rushes to the bathroom. He slams the door open, sighing in relief when there's nobody in there. He paces the length of the bathroom from the first to the last stall, trying to make his hard-on go away because he is _not_ going to masturbate in a public restroom.  
  
He has self-respect. His parents didn't raise him to jerk his dick in a public restroom.

Youngjae tries to think of wrinkly old grandparents, feces, tarantulas, anything that will calm his goddamn dick. He needs to stop thinking of Daehyun.

Daehyun naked.  
  
Daehyun getting fucked.  
  
Daehyun exposing himself to the world.  
  
To Youngjae.  
  
“Shit,” Youngjae mutters. He stops to grip the sides of a sink, tight enough to make his fingers go numb, and takes deep breaths. He closes his eyes. “This needs to stop right fucking _now_.”  
  
Youngjae doesn't keep track of how long he was in the bathroom, but it feels like a long time. He walks back to the table, still a little flustered, but much better than before. That doesn't mean he can look Daehyun in the eyes again.  
  
“I know I asked you already, but are you okay?” Daehyun asks.  
  
Youngjae nods. He can't trust his voice.  
  
Daehyun isn't quite frowning, but he isn't smiling either. He's analyzing Youngjae. Can he see right through Youngjae? Does he somehow know that Youngjae knows about the porn?  
  
Daehyun looks back down, and Youngjae opens up his film criticism essay.  
  
//  
  
It's been at least a couple days since Youngjae last talked to Daehyun. He needed time to calm down.  
  
There's something about sketching women in bikinis that calms Youngjae somehow. He doesn't know what it is, but with each line he puts down, each curve he draws, each smile he receives, he can feel his nerves settling down.  
  
“You're probably the politest bartender I've ever met,” one of the women says. She stands tall in her heels. With her hands on her hips, she makes a very imposing figure.  
  
“It's probably because I'm gay,” Youngjae replies. He finishes his sketch and flips it around for her to see. “What do you think?”  
  
She beams. “I look like Wonder Woman. If she ever stripped down to her underwear.”  
  
“You do look pretty sexy,” Youngjae agrees as he turns to a new page.  
  
She sways her hips, exaggerating, as she walks away, but Youngjae laughs. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that, honey.”  
  
Youngjae leans back in his seat as he waits for the next girl to come up. The music suddenly cuts off, and he turns around to see the manager, Hana, in the DJ booth.  
  
“It's almost time to open up,” she announces.  
  
A chorus of “Okay” comes from backstage. The women on stage disappear, and Youngjae packs up his things before he heads behind the bar.  
  
“How's that portfolio coming along?” Hana asks as she walks out of the booth.  
  
Youngjae shrugs. “It's getting somewhere.” He places his backpack on a shelf by the bar. “Hey, thanks again for letting me do this.”  
  
Hana smirks. “Anything for my favorite bartender. Besides, my girls like the way you draw them. It's not the same as getting their photo taken.”  
  
“Thanks, Hana.”  
  
“God, you're so polite, it's the cutest thing,” Hana gushes, squeezing Youngjae’s cheeks. They're numb when she lets go. He wouldn't be surprised if he finds small crescent moons pressed into his skin from her nails.  
  
Youngjae’s shift starts from 7 pm to 11 pm, then another person comes in to cover the later shift from 11 pm to 2 am. The earlier shift isn’t as chaotic as later in the night, but he’s dealt with his fair share of rowdy customers. It's mostly businessmen just coming off work, or, if it's a Friday, college students looking for another place to party.  
  
So, it doesn't surprise Youngjae when a group of loud college students stumble through the door before his shift is over, drunk out of their minds and loud enough to be heard over the music. It's clear that they're bar-hopping and that this isn’t even their second bar.  
  
One of them comes up to the bar and shoves himself in between two men. “Hey, get me, like…” He turns around to count the people in his group. “Six beers.” He slaps a bill down on the counter.  
  
Youngjae stares at the guy. He's obviously too drunk to be functioning normally. He can't sell any more alcohol to somebody this drunk. “Sorry, no can do.”  
  
The guy narrows his eyes. His hand crumples the money into a fist. “The fuck does _that_ mean?”  
  
Youngjae frowns. He doesn't have the patience for this right now. He notices the surrounding customers disappeared to another part of the club. “I'm not selling you alcohol. You're drunk as hell.”  
  
"What the fuck, man? I'm good!” the guy yells. He's getting aggressive. He reaches over the counter, the money falling to the floor on Youngjae’s side, and grabs Youngjae’s collar.  
  
Youngjae struggles to remove himself, but the guy’s grip is too tight. “Let go of me!”  
  
“Jihwan, what the fuck are you doing?”  
  
The guy is the first to look, and Youngjae follows.  
  
It's Daehyun.  
  
“Youngjae?” Daehyun asks.  
  
Youngjae doesn't say anything, just waves while he's still being held up by his shirt collar.  
  
“Jihwan, let go of the bartender,” Daehyun sighs.  
  
The guy, apparently Jihwan, releases Youngjae’s collar. Youngjae stumbles back, nearly hitting the shelf of liquor behind him.  
  
“Are you happy that I didn't punch your fuck buddy?” Jihwan snarls. He pushes past Daehyun, shoving him in the shoulder. “I’m leaving. I'll be at a bar that has a decent fucking bartender.”  
  
Daehyun shakes his head and walks up to Youngjae. “Sorry you had to see that. He's tolerable when he's sober.”  
  
Youngjae almost rolls his eyes. “I bet he is.” He watches as Daehyun leans on the counter, almost too close to Youngjae. “What can I get you?”  
  
“Would it be wrong to say your ass?” Daehyun replies with a sly smirk.  
  
And Youngjae realizes that Daehyun is at least a little drunk right now.  
  
Youngjae pretends not to be taken aback. He doesn't know if it's the setting or the pounding music or the time of night, but he feels bolder around Daehyun. “You'll need to take a rain check on that.”  
  
“So, is that a yes?” Daehyun asks, his expression turning almost hopeful.  
  
Youngjae shrugs. “Seriously, though, what can I get for you?”  
  
“I'll pass. I had a couple beers and I don't like being as drunk as some asshole, you know?” Daehyun says. He turns around, leaning his elbows on the counter, and looks at the women on stage. “They sure know what they're doing, don't they?”  
  
“That's why Hana keeps them around,” Youngjae says. He sees someone approach the bar. “Excuse me, I need to return to my job.”  
  
“Oh no, go ahead. Don't let me stop you.”  
  
Youngjae goes to serve the guy. The top two buttons on his dress shirt are popped open and his blue striped tie is loosened. He's not looking at Youngjae anymore, but at Daehyun.  
  
“Hey.” Daehyun turns his head and frowns. “Aren't you from that—“  
  
“Absolutely not,” Daehyun replies, almost too quickly. He turns to Youngjae. “I gotta go.”  
  
Youngjae isn't dumb. He's somewhat insightful. He knows Daehyun doesn't want to risk being recognized again. Not in a place like this where it’s perfectly reasonable for people to know him from a certain porn website.  
  
//  
  
It's easy to fall into a steady rhythm with Daehyun.  
  
It's just as Daehyun described it: a symbiotic relationship. He poses naked for Youngjae, and Youngjae helps him out with his math class.  
  
Youngjae also learns several things about Daehyun.  
  
Youngjae knows Daehyun has a passion for making food. Youngjae knows Daehyun doesn't really like conformity. Youngjae knows Daehyun has a growing collection of American hip hop songs in his phone.  
  
Daehyun slowly fills up Youngjae's sketchbook. His smile, his body, his face adorns an entire page.  
  
Youngjae realizes that falling in love with someone’s body is vastly different than falling in love with the actual person.  
  
It's easy to fall in love with Daehyun. With his smooth voice. His dark eyes. His shining smile.  
  
It's hard to resist.  
  
Youngjae realizes he doesn't really want to.  
  
//  
  
It's 2 in the morning and Youngjae can't sleep. The dorm is too quiet because Junhong is staying with Himchan overnight so they can work on their philosophy paper. Youngjae lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling. For some reason, maybe out of pure boredom, he finds himself on a porn site. He scrolls, passing by thumbnail after thumbnail of naked women in obscene poses making even more obscene faces.  
  
Maybe also out of curiosity, Youngjae finds himself searching for Daehyun’s video. It's the third video that pops up in the results.  
  
Youngjae skips over the parts he's already seen. He stops at the part where Daehyun is being tied to the bed posts, writhing and pulling against the ties. He arches up to kiss the other man. His head tips back and he gasps suddenly as the man thrusts into him again and again.  
  
Youngjae gulps. His hand slides into his pants, wrapping around his dick. He shivers at the contact. He begins pumping, closing his eyes and just listening to Daehyun.  
  
“Harder,” Daehyun whispers, and Youngjae bites back a moan. “O-oh fuck.”  
  
The wet sound of skin slapping skin fills Youngjae’s ears. His fist moves faster. His hips have started to thrust up on their own.  
  
“You fucking like that, don't you?” the man asks. It sounds like he slaps Daehyun’s ass, and Daehyun yelps.  
  
“Y… Yes. Fuck. Yeah. Fuck. Fucking there.”  
  
Youngjae feels a familiar warmth curl in the pit of his stomach. He grits his teeth as he climaxes, his muscles jerking, his entire being trembling. He lies in his bed, listening as Daehyun climaxes. The video stops after that.  
  
“What the hell,” Youngjae mutters, still breathing heavily. Did he really just masturbate to this? He removes his hand from his pants, not sure if he should feel fully disgusted, but he gets off his bed to change his pants.  
  
//  
  
It's a week from finals, and Youngjae doesn't have anything he can use for his painting. He flips through the pages, trying to see which one seems the most appropriate. It's been twenty minutes, and he doesn't have a single sketch he wants to reproduce.  
  
None of them seem right.  
  
“We totally need a break,” Daehyun suggests. He leans back in his seat, stretching his arms above his head.  
  
“Let's go,” Youngjae agrees.  
  
They pack up their things and walk out of the library, side by side, to Daehyun’s car.  
  
“Where are we going?” Youngjae asks as he climbs into the passenger seat.  
  
“I can’t just tell you,” Daehyun says with a grin.  
  
As the car goes quiet again, Youngjae feels his chest squeeze a little. Under the moving streetlights, shadows play across Daehyun’s face, twisting and contorting the features on his face. He just… He wants something more with Daehyun.  
  
He wants to wake up in the morning next to Daehyun.  
  
He wants to claim Daehyun as his own.  
  
He wants to be the one Daehyun can turn to.  
  
He wants Daehyun to feel the same way he does.  
  
But Youngjae doesn't know if what they've been doing is flirting or simply talking. He doesn't know if they go on dates or if they're just ways of hanging out. He can't tell the difference between Daehyun wanting to be _friends_ and Daehyun wanting to be _boy_ friends.  
  
Youngjae doesn't even know if Daehyun is gay. But he does gay porn. That should count for something, right? Youngjae wonders if he should tell Daehyun about that, or if he should let Daehyun tell him.  
  
Adult entertainment isn't exactly the most comfortable topic to talk about.  
  
How is Youngjae supposed to bring it up, anyway? Should he just say something like _Hey, so my roommate found a video of you on a porn website a while ago. Plus, I may have, um, jerked off to it, like, a week ago._  
  
“You don't look too good,” Daehyun suddenly says, and Youngjae nearly jumps in his seat. “Have you been sleeping enough? Are you eating properly? I know finals are next week, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be taking care of yourself.”  
  
Youngjae really wishes he knew the difference. “I'm fine.”  
  
“Okay,” Daehyun replies, but he sounds like he doesn't fully believe Youngjae. “I hope you don't mind pizza.”  
  
At the mention of pizza, Youngjae’s stomach growls.  
  
Daehyun laughs. “I'll take that as a yes.”  
  
Forty-five minutes and a pizza box later, Daehyun pulls up to a parking spot on a cliff, overlooking the city. It sprawls beneath them, stretching further and further into the horizon. The skyscrapers are tiny silhouettes against the indigo sky, squares of light shining brighter than the moon. It's amazing to think how there are millions of people living down there.  
  
“Whoa,” Youngjae breathes. “This place is amazing.”  
  
“My brother showed me this place before he left for college,” Daehyun replies, taking the key out of the ignition. He takes the pizza box out of Youngjae's hands and puts it in between them on the middle console. He opens it and pulls out a piece. “This is the kind of break we needed.”  
  
Youngjae hums in agreement as he pulls out his own piece. He won't deny this is a little romantic. They eat in silence, and Youngjae actually feels happy. He's in a beat up car that smells like Red Bull, but he has pizza and Daehyun beside him. He wants to keep doing things like this with Daehyun. He doesn't want this moment to end.  
  
Youngjae finishes his slice and pulls out his sketchbook and a pencil. He turns to a new page and faces Daehyun. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Should I get naked?” Daehyun asks, but he’s joking.  
  
Youngjae shakes his head and turns on the light. “Just pretend I'm not here.”  
  
Daehyun obeys, turning his head. He removes his glasses and places them on the dashboard. He brings his pizza up to his mouth. His cheeks are a little pink. The barest hint of a smile touches his lips.  
  
Youngjae smiles at Daehyun. He tries to ignore the twist in his stomach. He tries to wipe away the clammy sweat in his hands so his fingers don't slip around his pencil, so the paper doesn't collect any unnecessary smudges.  
  
Youngjae doesn't know how he's never noticed, but up close, Daehyun really does have a handsome face. Masculine. His eyes shine and reflect the city lights below them. He's still smiling. His brown hair is an absolute mess.  
  
It takes fifteen minutes for Youngjae to finish. He shows Daehyun, who smiles so wide and so vibrantly it almost hurts Youngjae.  
  
"I still can't believe how quick you are at this," Daehyun says with obvious awe in his voice.  
  
Youngjae looks down at his sketchbook, unable to contain his smile. He doesn't care if Daehyun feels the same way or not. He's content with just this.  
  
//  
  
Youngjae's art final deadline draws closer and closer, and he still hasn't decided which sketch to use. He's pretty sure his stress has hit a record high.  
  
It also doesn't help that Daehyun isn't fully committing himself to studying for his statistics final when Youngjae is trying his hardest to help.  
  
They're sitting in a private study room, which is a miracle because the rooms are the first to go during finals week. Daehyun is staring at the ceiling with his pencil hanging in between his lips,  
  
"I've always wondered what it's like to, you know, do double penetration. That shit must hurt so much," Daehyun says almost absentmindedly.  
  
He seems oblivious of Youngjae's imminent meltdown. He keeps chattering and rambling on about different topics. He's been bouncing from one thing to another so much, Youngjae stopped keeping track. Normally, Youngjae would have loved to listen to Daehyun talk, but it's finals week right now and he just wants Daehyun to shut up.  
  
Daehyun sits up straighter, taking his pencil out of his mouth. "Did you know that—"  
  
Youngjae slams a fist on the table. "Look, Daehyun, I love you, but I want to punch you in the goddamn face right now."  
  
Daehyun is silent, his eyes wide. His pencil drops on the table. "Did you just..."  
  
Youngjae thinks about what he said. He feels his face turn hot. "Wha— N-no! I didn't... That's not—" He can't think straight enough to speak properly.  
  
Daehyun suddenly leans forward, taking Youngjae's face in his hands. They're cold, but Youngjae feels warm lips press against his own. He blinks in surprise. But in the time that it takes Youngjae to realize what's happening and by the time he begins to react, Daehyun is already pulling back.  
  
Youngjae feels electric. He can feel every nerve ending ignite where Daehyun is touching him. He stares into Daehyun's eyes, searching for an answer he doesn't even know the question to.  
  
"Why?" Youngjae asks. He doesn't know how else to say it. He doesn't know why Daehyun would do this to him. Not when he's seen, _experienced_ , better than Youngjae.  
  
Youngjae is nothing like what Daehyun has worked with.

If Daehyun is a star in the sky, Youngjae is an insignificant meteor, engulfed by Daehyun's light and heat.  
  
Daehyun leans back, looking as confused as Youngjae feels. He still has his hands around Youngjae's face, the pads of his thumbs just brushing the tops of Youngjae's jaw. "What do you mean?"  
  
Youngjae can't voice his thoughts because they're too scattered to be coherent. His heart beats too quickly. "I... You... You're... I can't... "  
  
Daehyun withdraws his hands, and Youngjae feels cold. "What is it?"  
  
"But you do porn," Youngjae blurts. In that moment, he hates his incredibly weak verbal filter.  
  
Daehyun frowns. He recoils like Youngjae just burned him. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
"No! I-I didn't mean it like that!" Youngjae exclaims, trying to salvage the situation. He's too distracted to really know what to say. He sighs. "My roommate showed me a video of you online."  
  
"Okay…," Daehyun says, his voice viciously calm. Youngjae can tell Daehyun is right on the verge of exploding.  
  
Youngjae closes his eyes. He tries to find the right words that will inflict the least amount of damage, but his mind is bouncing around. His heart is in his throat. His stomach has a lead weight in it. The words escape him.  
  
"Okay, if you're not going to take this seriously, I have a stats final to study for,” Daehyun says. He gathers up his things, stuffs them in his textbook, and stands up. “I'll see you later.”  
  
But Youngjae knows Daehyun doesn't mean that.  
  
Youngjae knows he fucked it up.  
  
Before Daehyun opens the door, he turns to Youngjae. There is anger and hatred in his eyes. “Just because I do porn doesn't mean I should be treated any less than human.”  
  
As the door closes behind Daehyun, Youngjae buries his head in his hands with a groan.  
  
He feels tears sting his eyes.  
  
//  
  
_Fuck it,_ Youngjae decides as he flips to the last sketch.  
  
It's the one of Daehyun in his car.  
  
Youngjae doesn't care if it isn't the same as the rest of his portfolio. He's going to paint it. The professor told the class to paint from the heart, and the sketch is as close to Youngjae’s heart as it can get.  
  
His painting is due in two days. He can probably get it done by then.  
  
Youngjae goes through his sketchbook briefly. One half is full of women. The other half is entirely Daehyun.  
  
Youngjae hates the way his chest aches whenever he passes by Daehyun's face.  
  
Youngjae hates the way he feels a little lonelier than before.  
  
Youngjae wants to kill the part of his brain that's still hung up on Daehyun. He wants to strangle it. He wants to suffocate it until it's completely numb to every single feeling. He replays that night in his mind, going over what could have happened, what he could have done differently. He just can't believe that it was Daehyun who kissed him first, but he still managed to fuck everything up because he couldn't explain himself properly.  
  
With a huff, Youngjae closes his sketchbook and pulls out the canvas he'll use for his painting. Placing the sketchbook into his backpack and tucking the canvas underneath his arm, Youngjae heads out to the art studio.  
  
This is him, heartbroken and guilty, trying to get over a worthless crush.  
  
(But Youngjae has never been all that good at lying to himself.)  
  
//  
  
It takes Youngjae several tries to get it right. Every time he sees Daehyun’s face, he wants to vomit. He wants to run his pencil through the canvas until it’s cut up in ribbons and held together only by the staples in the wood. He wants to pour black paint all over it so he doesn’t have to see Daehyun’s twinkling eyes.  
  
But Youngjae needs to finish it because it’s not just a final project to him anymore.  
  
Maybe it’s an apology.  
  
To himself.  
  
And to Daehyun.  
  
//  
  
Youngjae turns in his painting. He named it _Future_.  
  
He hates it.  
  
He hates the colors he used. He hates the composition. He hates how he can recognize Daehyun in it. He hates how he goes a little breathless each time he looks at it.  
  
“Youngjae, can I speak to you?” the professor asks after class.  
  
“Yes?” Youngjae says as he walks to the front.  
  
“It's about your painting,” she says. “I noticed it doesn't fit in with the overall theme of your portfolio.”  
  
Youngjae nods. He should have seen this coming. “Yeah, I'm sorry about that.”  
  
The professor shakes her head. “I'm not mad at you. It's a lovely piece. I've decided to put it in the exhibit. I could sense the melancholic sentiments in it.”  
  
That's the last thing Youngjae expected, but he's not about to start complaining. He nods again. “I’m honored. Thank you.”

“I also noticed that while you included a variety of women, you used only one male model,” she adds. “Which is perfectly fine, I'm just wondering why you chose to do that.”  
  
Youngjae almost tells her _Because your entire department is trying to be unrealistically frugal_ , but he doesn't. He sticks with the easiest response. “I work with a lot of the women, but the man is my friend.”  
  
She smiles and pats his shoulder. “You did a great job conveying realism in your portfolio and painting. I expect to see you at the exhibit, okay?”  
  
Youngjae bows his head. “Of course. Thank you so much.”  
  
“You're the one who painted it.” She squeezes his shoulder before letting go. “I'll see you then.”  
  
Youngjae bows his head again, and leaves the room. He emerges from the building and into the cold air, shoving his hands into his pockets.  
  
“Hey! Youngjae!”  
  
Youngjae looks up to find Himchan walking up to him with wide strides across the quad. He lifts his hand up to wave, but as soon as Himchan is within a foot of Youngjae, he swings his fist right into Youngjae’s jaw. Youngjae stumbles to the ground on impact. He clutches his throbbing cheek and stares up at Himchan, terrified and confused.

“You're a _real_ piece of shit!” Himchan shouts.  
  
Several people in the vicinity rush past. They avoid eye contact with Youngjae and Himchan.  
  
“I-I'm really sorry for whatever I did, but…did you have to punch me?” Youngjae asks.  
  
Himchan grits his teeth. His hands curl and uncurl. They're trembling. He looks ready to punch Youngjae again. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You shouldn't be saying sorry to me!”  
  
Youngjae blinks, still a little dazed. “I really don't—“  
  
“This is about Daehyun!” Himchan cries, throwing his arms up the air, and everything clicks into place. “You know I had so much hope for you! I wanted you to be different, but no, you were just like the rest of them!”  
  
Youngjae stands up. He understands what this is all about now. He doesn't break eye contact with Himchan for a moment. “Am I?! I work at a club with women who deserve the utmost respect for what they do, and you think I see Daehyun any differently?! Just because I saw one video of him means he's a filthy whore?!”  
  
Himchan is silent, stunned.  
  
Youngjae continues, breathing hard. He can feel the heat surging through him. “If I have any doubts at all about him, it’s because I don't see myself as good enough for him!”  
  
Himchan is still staring at Youngjae.  
  
Youngjae can feel the adrenaline begin to leave his system. He doesn't even fully remember what he just said. But he knows it was enough to render Himchan speechless.  
  
“Are you being serious right now?” Himchan asks slowly.  
  
“Yes,” Youngjae huffs.  
  
Himchan takes a deep breath. He runs a hand through his hair. “Oh shit. I'm so sorry. Daehyun told me about what happened between you guys and I snapped. I didn't stop to consider your side.”  
  
Youngjae winces. “Daehyun told you?”  
  
Himchan nods. “Whatever you just told me, you better tell him because he looks like absolute shit. You have to sort through that yourself because I'm not doing it for you.”  
  
“Where is he right now?” Youngjae asks. With his anger somewhat gone, he's starting to shake. From the cold. From the nervousness. From the hope that maybe he still has a chance to make things right.  
  
Himchan looks at his phone. “He's doing his mock trial right now. It ends in fifteen minutes.”  
  
“I have to go,” Youngjae concludes. Even if Daehyun hates him right now, he needs the chance to explain himself.  
  
“Then go.”  
  
//  
  
Youngjae sits outside the Social Sciences building, waiting for Daehyun to come out. In his mind, he goes over what he's going to say and how he's going to say it. He picks at the weed growing in the cracks on the curb.  
  
“Youngjae?”  
  
Youngjae spins around. When he sees Daehyun standing there, dressed in a suit and tie, he wants to drown himself. Or maybe jump off a cliff. He stands up to face Daehyun fully.  
  
“I need to talk to you,” Youngjae says. He tries to find that same strength he had when he was with Himchan, but he isn't angry anymore. He's just scared. Scared of Daehyun. Scared of rejection. Scared that he’ll fuck up again.  
  
Daehyun frowns. He loosens his tie and unbuttons his collar. He begins to walk past Youngjae. “I'm busy.”  
  
“Daehyun… Please,” Youngjae says, following right behind Daehyun.  
  
“I don't have time to talk right now,” Daehyun says, his voice carefully monotone. Youngjae can almost hear a tremor in his words.  
  
Youngjae grabs Daehyun’s elbow, spinning him around. “Daehyun, _listen_ to me for a minute. That's all I'm asking.”  
  
Daehyun yanks his arm back, but faces Youngjae. He doesn't think he's ever seen Daehyun look so tired. He realizes it's because he's always seen Daehyun smiling. Now that he isn't, it's easy to see all the imperfections. “Fine.”  
  
Youngjae takes a deep breath. “I love you. I really do. I'm not…disgusted by the fact that you do porn. If anything, that deserves respect. You expose yourself to the world every time that camera starts rolling. The women in the club do the exact same thing, and I don't… Why would I see you any differently than anybody else?”  
  
Daehyun’s expression has softened. Less guarded. Youngjae relaxes a little. He takes a couple steps forward.

“All I wanted was for you to love me back, and when I got that, I didn't believe you _because_ you do porn.” Youngjae notices Daehyun stiffen again. He slowly takes Daehyun’s hands into his own. It’s more to anchor himself than anything else. He's relieved when Daehyun doesn't remove his hands. “I asked you ‘why’ because I knew I couldn't compare to everyone else you had been with. Why would you pick me? How could I possibly compare to them?”  
  
Daehyun frowns. “Is that really what you think?”  
  
Youngjae nods. He lets out a shaky breath. Everything is out there for Daehyun to see. Now it's all up Daehyun to decide.  
  
Without another word, Daehyun pulls Youngjae closer, removing his hands and placing them on Youngjae's waist. Youngjae brings his arms up to wrap around Daehyun’s neck. He stares into Daehyun’s eyes and he thinks that he wouldn't mind swimming in them forever.  
  
“I don't like the guys at work. They're just guys, Youngjae. Everything with them is just professional,” Daehyun says. A smile begins to work its way on his face, and Youngjae realizes just how much he's missed it. “They're nothing compared to you. You're… You’re funny and you're talented and you're…” He grins. “Dandy.”  
  
Youngjae laughs, leaning his forehead against Daehyun's, and closes his eyes. He's afraid he might go blind if he keeps looking at Daehyun. “Dandy, huh?”  
  
“I think we’re gonna start a new trend,” Daehyun says. Youngjae can smell the mint from his breath. “Youngjae.”  
  
“Yeah?” Youngjae asks, leaning back. He opens his eyes to look at Daehyun. His heart skips a beat.  
  
“I love you, too,” Daehyun whispers. He tips forward, pressing his lips against Youngjae’s.

Kissing Daehyun’s smile is so much better than Youngjae thought.

When they pull apart, Youngjae swears he smiles so wide, his cheeks begin to hurt. He moves his hand to rest on the Daehyun’s. “I want to show you something.”

Daehyun tilts his head. “What is it?”

“Are you busy?” Youngjae asks, untangling himself from Daehyun. He begins to lead Daehyun towards the art studio.

“Not anymore,” Daehyun replies.  
  
//  
  
Youngjae removes the cloth covering up _Future_ in the studio.  
  
Daehyun doesn’t say anything. His eyes are wide and sparkling.  
  
Youngjae bites his bottom lip as he drops the cloth behind the canvas. He stands, uncertain, as he waits for Daehyun’s response.  
  
Daehyun smiles, one that takes over his entire face. It’s just as blinding with the rays of the setting sun slanting across him.  
  
Youngjae goes to stand beside Daehyun. He takes Youngjae’s hand, his palm warm and his heart beating steadily.

The longer they stand in front of the painting together, the more Youngjae begins to like it.


End file.
